From Trent’s seat at the head of the table, he glanced over at his father, who sat with his chin on his fist, a humble listener, mustering only enough interest to follow, never to challenge or to lead.
Suddenly Trent realized he was grateful to Dopp. If it were not for him sparking the motivation, Trent never would have done his job well enough to uncover the suspicion in Arianna’s numbers, which had led him to her.…
“… is why our current case depends on it.” Dopp turned to him, rubbing the rim of his water glass. “Don’t you think, Trent?”
He wasted no time. “Absolutely.”
“I hear what you’re saying,” his mother cut in, “but to us on the outside, the crackdown seemed very sudden. We should have known it was part of the plan.”
She smiled at Trent, and only he understood the craftiness in her eyes: she had noticed his mind wandering and found a way to catch him up. He smiled back, grateful for reasons she would never know.
“It was a policy trick up our sleeve,” Trent said.
“Though it has yet to really pay off,” Dopp said, looking at him.
“It will. I’m doing whatever it takes to make sure of it.”
“I’m sick of hearing about that woman,” Joanie said. “By the time this baby comes, I hope I never hear her name again, unless it’s in reference to a court date.”
Dopp chuckled. “From your mouth to God’s ears.”
Wry smiles flickered around the table, hyenas united over their prey, Trent thought. Any trace of nostalgia and goodwill vanished. He wanted nothing more than to be sitting on the train heading back to Manhattan, to her. How much longer would he have to keep up this farce?
“So who wants dessert?” his father asked.
Everyone nodded, even his mother, who never ate sweets. “There’s a fresh apple pie in the oven,” she said.
“I’ll go get it,” Trent replied, jumping out of his chair.
“Thanks, sweetie. It’s so good to have you home.”
He smiled as he turned away. Never had he felt more alone.
* * *
When he walked into his building’s lobby a few hours later, he was startled to find a young woman crying, hunched over on the bench near the elevators. Trent recognized her as a neighbor with whom he often exchanged pleasantries. No one else was around to help, so he approached her.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “Do you need something?”
She looked up at him with reddened eyes, her shoulders heaving. “Oh God, I’m in such a mess. There’s nothing you could do.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
She wiped her hand across her face. “Well, I’m pregnant, which is the good news. Three months along. But my caseworker found out that I drank on New Year’s, one glass of champagne, and now I have to pay a one-thousand-dollar fine.”
“Jesus,” Trent muttered. “Just for one glass?”
“I’m dreading telling my husband. We were saving up for a vacation.…” She broke into sobs again. “We haven’t gone on vacation for two years.”
“Fuck the DEFP,” Trent said, his heart pounding with increasing rage. “What you do with your body is your own goddamn business.”
“I wish.”
Trent wondered how many mothers-to-be were crying all over the city, fined for similar so-called crimes, as countless more anxiously waited out their pregnancies. He remembered the woman whose MetroCard he had recovered in Washington Square Park, who had tried to conceal her fear of him. He thought of Arianna and the millions of sick people like her with no cure in sight, cut off from research that could help make it possible.
“Damn them,” he declared. “I’ll take care of the fine. Don’t you worry about it.”
A sob died in her throat as she stared up at him. “What? How?”
“I know people,” he said. “There are ways.” It was so simple, he thought. Of course, it was criminal, too, but that wasn’t stopping the DEP and the DEFP. Trent could just go into their joint database, find this woman’s case history, and mark the fine as paid. No one in their sprawling bureaucracy would know the difference.
She looked at him in disbelief. “Are you sure?”
“It’s no problem. Really.”
She jumped up and hugged him, and when she stepped back, her smile was full of relief and joy. Trent yearned to see the same expression on Arianna’s face, worrying that he never would.
* * *
The next afternoon, Dopp sat in his office with a scowl. Almost a week had passed since the crackdown, and the department was no better off for it. Many agents were working overtime to process the daily influx of clinic reports, while other agents were neglecting their regular duties to conduct random inspections. In turn, the general atmosphere in the office was one of chaos mixed with silent resentment, and Dopp knew it was all directed at him. Up in Albany, he was not gaining fans, either. He had just hung up the phone with Senator Windra, who personally called to report the capitol’s response to the crackdown.
“Well, it has gotten people talking about the DEP again.… But not in the way you want, I’m afraid.”
Dopp balked. “I thought there was no such thing as bad publicity.”
“The liberals are scoffing at you, Gideon.”
“What do you mean?”
Windra paused. “They’re saying you’ll bankrupt the department before they even get the chance.”
“That’s outrageous!”
“Is it, though? What good is this crackdown doing? I know you can’t afford to keep this up for long. And I would hate to think you’re destroying yourself for publicity. Tell me you have some strategic reason in mind.”
“I most definitely do. We have a very serious case under investigation, and the crackdown was designed to speed things up.”
“Well, has it?”
Dopp cleared his throat. “It’s helping every day.”
“I hope so, for your sake. Let me be completely clear. No one here is going to negotiate for you if we think you’re squandering the money you already have. We need to see some results that prove exactly why this
